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My Dear Alyna
Three people I knew died today, a doctor, a nurse and... my daughter, Alyna. She was the main target; the other two were just collateral damage. You probably don't know this, but Alyna was diagnosed with Leukemia when she was four and has suffered for the last eight years of her life. Her mother had died when she was seven. The death of her mother added to her own misery and even I, her father, could do nothing but watch her struggle to hold on to whatever life she had left. I had to end it! The doctor's name was Maxwell. Dr William J. Maxwell; he was Alyna's attending physician. He and his wife; the nurse who, if I remember correctly, was called Cindy. They would come every Sunday to give Alyna her treatment. They would usually stay for an hour or so after each treatment to comfort her and give her the love and affection that I could never truly share. They were never supposed to die, it was just bad timing. I remember one time when Dr. Maxwell told Alyna that it would be all over soon enough, how true his words were, just not in the way he thought. Well, at least she's happy now. Mondays are Alyna's favourite days; she would be so active and happy on Mondays. Sometimes, she would be strong enough to get up from her bed. On such days, I would bring her out in her wheelchair and we'd stroll out to the park and enjoy the fresh air. So I decided that Monday would be the day, the day she will be set free, the day which I shall grant my child her eternal freedom. So on a snowy Monday morning, I awoke from my sleep. I decided not to go to work today as there were things far more important than those at the office. I wanted to spend every second of this day with Alyna. It was her last. Because it was just too cold to go out, I sat her beside me on the sofa. I wrapped my arm around her frail weak body and kissed her on the cheek. As she smiled back, I saw her beautiful yet empty eyes staring back at me. It was too much; I cried. Whatever tears I had shed, whatever pain I felt was nothing compared to her agony. She tried to comfort me, saying that it that it was “okay” and that “I would make the right choice”. She rested my head on her chest, slowly stroking my hair. In each other's arms, we slowly fell into a deep soundless slumber. I decided to make Alyna some lunch before she woke up. Sandwiches, I thought. I went to the kitchen to get the bread, lettuce and tomatoes and laid them on the table. I went to the knife shelf to pick a nice sharp blade. As I walked back to the table, my hands started to tremble. I stared at the knife in my hand, the most horrific images flashed across my mind. I saw my daughter, my beloved Alyna. She was dead, gone, lost. Her body was pale, devoid of colour. Her skin was icy cold, as if her body was frozen. She was lying face up, nude; I could see her neck slit. Blood pooled around her head. At that moment, I faded back into reality. I dropped the knife in fear, making an audible crash upon hitting the pavement. That sound woke Alyna up, she called out to me, “Daddy?” she asked. “Are you okay?” I just told her I was making lunch when I dropped the knife. As quickly as possible, I laid the table and went to get Alyna. As I approached her, she turned to look at me, her innocent smile. I shuddered to think about what happened just now, what was wrong with me? What evil force could have generated those sights? I put it out of my mind; I wanted to focus on my daughter. I carried her to the dining room and sat her down opposite me; I stared at her while she ate messily. I let out a slight smile as I saw that such innocence should never suffer like that, but what could I do? At around 8pm, she was already exhausted. I carried her back to the room, gave her a kiss. Just then, I heard a knock come from down stairs, “Who could that be?” I wondered. I went down stairs to find Dr. Maxwell and his wife, Cindy, coming in. I was surprised because Alyna was not supposed to get her medication until next week. Dr. Maxwell told me to come with me to the kitchen while Cindy went up to check on Alyna. Once inside the kitchen, he shut the door and turned to me. “How old is Alyna?” he asked. “Twelve” I replied, “Why?” “There is no point in trying to save her, the chances of her surviving is just too low, I won't be coming next week,” he said. But, why? You’re telling me she's going to die?! No, it can't be! I lashed out at him, sending him flying, I grabbed the knife on the counter and thrust it into his chest, he grabbed my shoulders. I stabbed him again, and again, and again. Once he let go, I pulled the blood-soaked blade out of his bleeding body. Before I could think, I heard the door open. I quickly ran to hide inside the kitchen pantry, leaving only a crack to see what would happen. I saw Cindy come into the kitchen, the moment she saw the body, I ran up behind her and covered her mouth to muffle her scream. I put the knife on her neck and pulled the blade back. Her lifeless body fell to the floor and made a soft 'thump' as it hit the ground. With the knife in hand, I slowly walked up the stairs, I then turned and cautiously walked to Alyna's bedroom. When I reached the door, I grabbed the doorknob and silently pushed the door open. I walked up to her bed and stared down at her. Her eyes were closed, but I knew she was not asleep. I put a hand on her mouth and the knife on her throat, her eyes opened, I stared back into those blue pools. I started to cry again, this would be the last time I would see her alive again. I took my hand off her mouth, she closed her eyes and whispered something, “I love you”. I pulled the knife, the blade cut through her flesh, blood started to flow out of her wound. I can't believe it! In just a few short moments, my daughter was gone, my beautiful Alyna had vanished. I bent down over her and gave her one final kiss. As I left her room, my phone began to ring, the hospital was calling, a male voice started to speak, “Is this the Davidson residence?” “Yes,” I replied, “How can I help?" “Well, it seems that Dr. Maxwell was misinformed, in reality, your daughter's blood count has stabilised, she is cured of her Leukemia.” I dropped the phone and turned back in to her room, what have I done? Is this my punishment? Punishment for trying to play God? Punishment for wanting Alyna to be happy? Why? I lie down beside her body, I wrap my arm around her corpse and pull it closer to me. I shed a single tear, I smile. Then, I hear something, “Daddy?” Category:Mental Illness